Trying To Hide the Pain
by nighttime writer
Summary: CHANGED CHAPTER 2! House is two seconds away from crashing and burning but everyone is too angry at him for crying cancer to consider that there's a kernel of truth in every lie. Just how much of House's lie was true? Full summary inside. RR Please.
1. Chapter 1

A/N – Unlike my other fics, this one has summaries for each chapter. I know exactly how long this story will be and what will happen in each chapter. I hope you like it. I actually have two Betas editing this, so grammar will be good to go! Enjoy.

Summary – House faked a fatal illness in attempt to receive a permanent high. In anger, everyone turns the other cheek when they see House two seconds away from crashing and burning. But with each passing day it seems that more and more symptoms seems to put into question just how much of the lie was actually true.

Disclaimer – I own nothing except this pathetic excuse of a story.

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Wilson stopped talking to the nurse when he saw House walk into the hospital; beads of sweat were pouring down his face. His eyebrows raised in worry as he watched his friend from a distance. It was clear House wasn't even paying attention to anything happening around him as his tongue stuck out in intense concentration. The limp was much more predominant today than it had been the last few days, which worried Wilson even more. He debated whether or not to find his friend a wheel chair as he watched House's face contort in pain.

"Tell me when those tests are in Jenna. Thanks," Wilson said walking away before he could finish the sentence.

It didn't take long to step in front of House, his arms crossed across his chest. House looked up, snatching the sunglasses from his eyes to lock eyes with Wilson. House's stare was deadly, but Wilson didn't even flinch. House attempted to side step Wilson, but Wilson easily slid in front of him once more.

"You want to move?" House hissed.

"You look like shit. Do you have a hangover?" Wilson asked. "Or did you run out of Vicodin this morning?"

"None of those, smartass," House grumbled.

Wilson stepped aside to let House pass, but followed beside his friend as he made his way to the elevator.

"House, is your leg hurting?" Wilson asked worriedly.

House rolled his eyes. He continued walking parting the crowd with his cane, much to everyone's annoyance. Wilson followed behind House, mumbling a quick apology to everyone who was talking in protest. They walked into the elevator, and House pressed the 'Close Button' before half of the people waiting for elevators could walk on.

"My leg always hurts remember Jimmy? It's called an infarction," House quipped.

"House, you know what I mean," Wilson resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"I'm fine," House muttered.

Wilson opened his mouth to speak, but the elevator door swooshed open and House stepped out hurriedly. Wilson basically tripped out of the elevator immediately apologizing to the poor man he tripped over.

It had been four days since everyone found out about the cancer stunt House pulled. Within those four days, House had managed to come to work with a hang over. Cuddy's patience was wearing thin now. The day before she had stomped into House's office her ears burning with anger. She had no sympathy for the man as she flipped every closed shade in the office open, smiling when she heard a grown come from the lump on the couch.

She threatened to suspend House if he came to work with a hang over one more time before going into a long screaming rant about how selfish the man can be. Secretly Wilson was praying to the Gods that House was telling the truth about not having a hang over, but his whole appearance said otherwise.

"Are you sure?" Wilson asked gently.

"You've been hanging out with Cameron too much. The niceness is rubbing off on you," House stated.

House stood in front of the conference room looking expectantly at Wilson, who responded with a confused look. "Why aren't you going in?"

"You first, they won't shoot if you're protecting me," House reasoned.

This time Wilson really rolled his eyes but he did open the door with House right behind him. Chase looked up from his crossword puzzle. When he spotted House, he shook his head returning to his puzzle.

"You're hung over," Foreman stated, plopping down in his chair.

"You have clinic duty," House ordered.

"No I don't," Foreman said confused. "I did my hours already."

"You didn't hear? It's two for the price of one week," House said.

Foreman rolled his eyes, giving House a cold stare. "I'm not doing your clinic hours because you're hung over."

"I'm not hung over, man," House walked over to the table.

"House, lunch later," Wilson said.

He gave a small nod in acknowledgement of the ducklings before slipping out of the room. Though House would have never admitted it, the past few days had been awkward to say the least. Cameron always looks at him with pity radiating off her, Chase wouldn't even smile at any of his jokes and Foreman was being a bigger ass than he already was.

The doors to the conference room swung open as the last duckling made her way in.

"You're late," House observed.

Cameron gave him a once over before sighing loudly. "You're hung over."

House growled out in frustration. "I'm not hung over. For the last time just in case you," he points to Chase who looks up from his cross word puzzle confused. "…decide to state an observation that isn't true, let me get it through each of your heads. I'm not hung over!"

The ducklings exchanged glances worriedly and House slammed his hand down on the table in anger. Chase jumped from his chair sending it backwards in surprise. "And stop looking at each other as if I'm not in here." House added.

"Are you sure you're fine?" Chase asked grabbing his chair from the floor.

House fought back the urge to smack Chase over the head with his cane. "I said I'm not hung over." House said avoiding the question. "Why are you late?" his focus shifted towards Cameron who was currently fishing out something from her briefcase.

"I was talking to Cuddy," Cameron started.

"Traitor."

Cameron rolled her eyes. She threw a file in front of House and handed Foreman and Chase theirs. "We have a case."

House flipped open the folder skimming over the tests. When he found everything to be boring he scoffed loudly throwing the file in the center of the table. "No…Wilson has a case. It's leukemia. The end. Nothing interesting."

"No she doesn't. Biopsy didn't show anything wrong," Cameron pointed out.

"Well, let's see," House said. He attempted to reach for the file he threw, but when he found it was out of reach he snatched the one from Chase's hands instead. "There's your problem right there. The E.R. did the tests."

"That was mine," Chase pouted.

"And now it's mine. Sorry pretty boy. You can't always get what you want," House said gleefully.

"But you can right?" Cameron asked darkly, effectively wiping the grin off House's face.

"Go do the tests again. Why? Chase, come on," House said waving his hands towards himself. "Come on, ask me why."

"Why?" Chase asked dryly.

"Because apparently to Cameron, I always get what I want," House mocked.

Everyone in the room rolled their eyes, tired of their boss's antics. When it was clear to House that no one was moving out of their respective chairs he exaggeratedly shook his head around. "Oh no, don't get up from your seats, let me do those tests for you all."

The younger doctors took the hint and reluctantly stood from their chairs. "Once you guys are done come back for the differential." House said shooing them away. "Foreman, clinic."

"What?" Foreman asked indecorously.

"Don't tell me it takes three intelligent doctors to work one simple machine," House stated.

Foreman shook his head angrily. "You're unbelievable. You're just too hung over to deal with patients and you punish me for it." He yanked the door open and stalked out before House could say anything.

Chase glanced over at House watching the emotions quickly play out on his face before it quickly became neutral once more. It was funny how his eyes always gave him away. Always. He had learned to read people quite well, growing up with a bunch of fake people surrounding him he learned from a young age where exactly the truth laid. Another thing he learned quite young was evidence of a hang over. He had lived through many in his lifetime, his mom's last few years of life practically one big hangover after another. And House was definitely not hung over.

"What are you still doing here?" House practically demanded.

"You're not hung over," Chase simply stated. "But you're not fine either."

Once all three ducklings were out of sight House gave a loud sigh throwing his head upwards in what looked dangerously like a prayer. He fished around for a familiar bottle eyeing the pills greedily as he shook three out. He reached for the coffee Foreman had left on the table taking one big gulp as he swallowed the pills along with it. He sat at the table grabbing for Chase's crossword as he waited for the medicine to take affect.

Fifteen minutes and one completed crossword puzzle later House decided to attempt limping into his office. It was a 400 feet walk from the corner of the table towards his chair behind the desk, but for some reason lately it's been feeling a lot farther. The alcohol was great at numbing the pain, mixed with Vicodin the pain was almost bearable. But Cuddy's threat sounded more like a promise, and despite what most people thought, House knew Cuddy would go through with it if push came to shove.

House groaned loudly as he attempted to stand up, only to practically collapse back into the chair. He thanked whatever God there may be out there that someone had decided to close the blinds. He bit back a whimper as he sucked in his breath and tried once more to stand. In excruciating pain, House managed stumbling into the sofa in his office before being completely drained of all of his energy.

His eyelids drooped down heavily and sleep was fact approaching when the phone rang waking him from his half slumber.

"Hello?" he barked out, angry that someone chased away his much needed sleep so quickly.

"Dr. House? Greg. It's Dr. Bilritz," Dr. Bilritz introduced himself.

"So?" House asked expectantly drumming his fingers on the desk.

House heard a small sigh from the other side and he gulped down nervously restraining himself from dropping the phone all together when he was met with silence. "I can't read your mind you know." House said his sarcasm a releasing form of the fear.

"You should come in Greg…"

"That bad huh?" House felt like someone had just punched him in the gut.

"The sooner the better Greg," Dr. Bilritz stated.

House scrunched his eyebrows together, squeezing his eyes shut; his hand pinched the bridge of his nose in attempt to re-center himself. So many thoughts were running through his head, each disappearing as quickly as they appeared. He sucked in as much air as he could and gave a loud sigh nodding his head.

"Ok. I can be there in one hour," House resigned.

"Um…" Dr. Bilritz started. "It's not required, but I highly recommend you bring someone close to you."

House's mind focused quickly on the statement. He quickly ran through the list of likely candidates, which at this time was one, but even Wilson seemed fed up with him. He frowned. "It's ok. I don't want to disturb anyone," House said sadly.

On the other end Dr. Bilritz could distinguish the sadness easily as House's tone of voice dropped to the point of a near whisper. Dr. Bilritz knew that the appointment would be the start of a few very bad months, and he knew this sort of news shouldn't be taken lightly. He's known people who damn near killed themselves on the way home from his office. And it was all people who came alone.

"I don't think they'll mind. But I won't push. I'll see you at eleven," Dr. Bilritz said hanging up the phone.

House dropped the phone onto the receiver. He knew that he had just swallowed some pills forty five minutes ago, but after that conversation he didn't really care as he carelessly threw two more into the back of his mouth.

House sat deep in thought unsure of how much time had passed. He had decided he would wait for the ducklings to come back and they could do the differential themselves. If he left before they came back, knowing them, they would have devised a search and rescue team consisting of Cuddy, Wilson, and them. The last thing House needed was all five of them looking for him, calling him non stop until he finally threw the phone at the wall.

Cameron walked in with his male ducklings following suit. It amused him slightly that the biggest push over of the three seemed to always be leading the other two. Chase and Foreman apparently had already started the differential arguing their way in.

"That's great. You guys are doing an excellent job!" House said enthusiastically.

He limped past the three towards the exit, his briefcase and jacket in his hand.

"Where are you going?" Chase poked.

"Australia to get me another wombat," House called behind his back.

Cameron, Foreman, and Chase watched their boss retreat towards the elevators. Foreman threw his hands in the air flinging the file on the table. "Is it just me or is House acting weirder than his usual self…and that says a lot if we're talking about House."

Chase shrugged. "Beats me. I think we should do another M.R.I." Chase stated changing the subject. "As for House., it wasn't a hangover…" Chase trailed off. He added silently in his head, "I just wish I knew what it was."

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A/N: What else can I say but review and I'll write more. Don't like it? Tell me so I can make adjustments.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N - Last A/N I think for the most part. Just wanted to give "baby Goose" a little apology. You were right and I was wrong. I changed chapter 2 because a lot of people were telling me I was moving too fast. It was a bit unorganized (the last one) and I do want to give the readers a good story, but that means a constant changing and re-changing. I hope this will be a bit clearer than the previous chapter 2. Chapter 3 may not be here for awhile though depending on my laptop. Once again sorry.

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"Hello?" House barked snapping his cell phone open.

He was currently sitting in the waiting room of Dr. Bilritz's clinic annoyed beyond belief. There were three little kids running back and forth, passing him to get to the other end before coming back and passing him once more. This had been going on for close to ten minutes now, and House was doing all he could to restrain his temptation to just trip one of the little bastards.

"Where in God's name are you?" Wilson whispered on the other end, looking around before slipping into a closet.

Cuddy was currently stalking the halls of the hospital dead set on finding House. She had stormed into Wilson's office demanding to know where House was. When he shrugged helplessly, she told him to follow her as she walked into the conference room, effectively stopping the current differential.

Cameron had said something about him leaving, and from there Cuddy had ordered them all to find out where the hell House, drag him back to the hospital, and bring him straight to her office.

Apparently, someone came in threatening to sue, which was no surprise to anyone, especially when they stated that House was their doctor. It didn't help that the family was one of the biggest benefactors of the hospital.

"I'm in Australia," House said simply.

"Seriously, House, Cuddy is about ready to send the dogs after you to sniff out your trail…follow the vicodin…" Wilson said starting to wander off into his own tangent.

An annoying shriek of laughter stopped Wilson mid sentence, his face contorting in confusion. "House are you…babysitting?" Wilson asked incredulously.

"Yes, and I'm also wearing a Barney outfit just for fun," House said, his voice as high as he could possibly make it.

"Then where are you?" Wilson questioned.

"You ask too many questions. Just cover for me. Tell her I'm at a doctor's appointment or something," House said truthfully.

"You're at the park, aren't you?" Wilson decided ignoring the doctor's statement.

House rolled his eyes wondering how dense Wilson could be at times. "Yes, I'm at the park. Now go shoo. You've got dying bald people to attend to."

House hung up in time to see the death glare a mother from the other end of the room was giving him. "What?" House asked brusquely.

House didn't wait for an answer; he fished for his Ipod blasting AC/DC from the small earphones. He was thankful that the loud music drowned out the little brats as he was in desperate need of thinking time. Technically, he told Wilson the truth. He was at the doctor's office.

A tapping on his shoulders forced House to peek out one eye, only to be met face to face by his oncologist. Dr. Bilritz was short and plump, the exact opposite of House's tall and lanky features. He had hazel eyes, which were always covered by a pathetic excuse of a comb over, bangs falling in wisps over his eyes. He wore his lab coat with pride, his ID badge covered in dinosaur stickers in attempt to show his youthful side. A polar opposite to House's band t-shirt covered in an opened button up shirt. House had given up wearing an ID badge after the first week on the job.

"Greg, come in," Dr. Bilritz said kindly.

House nodded preparing himself to stand up. He knew the other kids were watching him curiously, and he bit back the urge to scare them all away. House gasped at the unexpected pain that greeted him as he attempted to stand.

Dr Bilritz's hand was by his elbow in an instant, but House shook it off stubbornly.

"I can do it," House snapped.

Dr. Bilritz simply stepped aside, not wanting to anger the man. They had known each other since med school, though they were really only names in each other's radar. They never had any classes together, though they did see each other from time to time at the college parties. There was a time when House was the popular kid. House was coy, manipulative, confident, everything that would classify him as a jerk in Dr. Bilritz's book.

Over the years, they had bumped into each other at random conventions, most of which House had made very clear he didn't want to be part of any of it. House had read about Dr. Bilritz in random articles here and there, mostly somewhere near Wilson's name. House always read those stupid articles about Wilson. He always wanted to have some ammunition to embarrass his friend, or he was actually proud of him, though House wasn't sure which one it was.

"Well, are you coming?" House snapped.

Dr. Bilritz shook his head clearing his thoughts before striding over towards the door. House had miraculously made it to his office without falling. Once the door was shut, House limped slowly towards the chair, practically falling into it exhausted.

"I'm here. What's the deal?" House asked trying to keep his calm.

Dr. Bilritz picked up a big brown envelope from his desk, extending his arm so House could take it. House looked down unsure before finally snatching it. He looked from the envelope to the doctor before slowly opening it to reveal a set of x-ray films.

Dr. Bilritz stood up from behind the desk taking the films and putting it on the board. House frowned but forced himself to stand and hobble to stand besides the oncologist. He studied it carefully, his eyes falling to the off centered undeniable mass.

"Chemo isn't doing it, huh?" House said in a neutral tone.

"I thought you'd want to see it for yourself Greg," Dr. Bilritz stated motioning for House to sit back down.

House nodded not trusting his voice at the moment. Of course, he should have known it wasn't going to work. It never worked. At least not for him. All the damn medicine that showed promise never worked for him. They should have a label on all of those damned things stating "It works for everyone, but Greg House."

"So now what?" House questioned. "What crazy whacked out idea do you have now, Doc?"

Dr. Bilritz laughed lightly unsure of what else to do. He had never treated a patient like House. Most of his patients trusted him blindly, but House was different. House knew exactly what the stakes were and knew the chances of every single thing Bilritz had thrown at him.

"I was thinking we might try radiofrequency ablation…," Bilritz started.

"New treatment? I told you if the chemo didn't work I give up," House said defeatedly.

Bilritz nodded understandably knowing he was now walking on egg shells. "It shows promise though. And it's still very possible. It's not surgery…" he offered.

House gave a defeated sigh. He was tired. He was sick and tired of hiding it from Wilson, from Cuddy, from everyone. He was tired of having to pretend nothing was wrong. He was tired of people assuming all those damn pills he took were just Vicodin. What if it was something else? It is something else! But it's not like anyone's noticed lately. Everyone's too stuck on the fact he might have just wanted to get brain surgery. And how much did they know to begin with? Just because he gave a false name didn't necessarily mean all of it was false.

"Fine," House said quietly.

Bilritz gave a toothy smile, apparently very pleased with House's decision. "Ok! Just sign these forms and we can do this Friday, and you'll be out Saturday afternoon." He shoved papers across the desk and House signed lazily, tempted to sign "fuck you" instead of "Greg House."

House watched Bilritz take the papers and put it into his file. "What do we do after that?" House ventured unsure if he wanted to hear the answer.

"Depends. But Greg, this one does look very promising," when Bilritz saw the worry in House's eyes he decided to add, "but maybe you should get a second opinion."

"If I wanted a second opinion I would have gotten one already." House asked stated.

Bilritz wrote down a number looking at it as if studying it. He gave a satisfied smile before handing the card to House. "If you change your mind, here. His one of the best in the nation…"

"You've got to be kidding me," House said dryly.

"I've talked to him about…"

"If you say me, I can sue you. Of course, you already know that don't you?" House said dangerously low.

Bilritz gulped seeing the danger in House's ice blue eyes. "He doesn't know your name. And I told him to just reserve the appointment…"

"You already made an appointment?" House asked indecorously. "Seriously Dave, did you fail confidentiality 101 or something?"

"Greg, I've got only the best intentions," Bilritz said gently.

"Thank-you, but no thank-you. If I wanted to talk to Wilson, I would have just gone to his office and saved myself about 30 minutes on a damn bike," House said angrily.

He stood up before staggering a bit, the pain almost unbearable. "Fuck!" he yelled frustrated. Bilritz stood running to the other side of the desk to help House. "I'm fine!" he snapped when Bilritz tried steadying him.

He snatched his cane and made his way to the door. House yanked it open ignoring the surprised looks of those three brats that were still in the waiting room.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N – Sorry it's been awhile. For those reading the story and have been following since the beginning, Chapter 2 was completely trashed and replaced with a better one. The story is moving at a slower pace due to many requests. Also, I'm sorry if I'm "begging" for reviews. I'll stop. Here's my last one. I appreciate it if you guys can tell me what you're thinking about the story.

But I wrote many and said that unfortunately for a story to be good there will always be a constant writing and re-writing. If ever there was a chapter change (like the one that happened in chapter 2), I message those reviewers and told them about the change as soon as it happened. If I only knew all my readers, I would email each and every one of you because you don't know how much I appreciate all of you.

On with the story. And for the most part, this (as of now) will be the last A/Ns for awhile.

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"Does House have access to a mirror in his house?" Cuddy asked off handedly surprising Wilson.

They were both just outside the clinic discussing one of Wilson's ideas for treating his newest patient. It had something to do with a clinical trial that apparently has had great results on patients. Unfortunately, the trial was being done in Chicago; Wilson wanted to know if there was any ways Cuddy could pull some strings. It was, after all, a teaching hospital.

"What?" Wilson asked bewildered.

Cuddy pointed at House who was currently trying very hard to avoid eye contact with either. He looked absolutely horrible. His usual stubble had now grown into a full-grown beard. House's hair was currently sticking out of his hat wildly; sweat dripped down his face as he concentrated on the floor. Cuddy could clearly remember the damned shirt he was currently wearing, mostly because it was the same shirt for the past three days.

Cuddy stalked over to House, her hands firmly planted at her waist as she waited for House to make eye contact. House bit his lip knowing he had been caught. Yesterday night was hell on him. At one point, his leg ached so much that he actually started to whimper in protest. The fact that he had made it to the hospital was miracle enough for him, but by judging by the look on Cuddy's face, it wasn't nearly enough for her.

"House," her voice was tight, as she tried controlling her emotions. "In my office…NOW!"

"Yes mother," House said sarcastically.

A random shooting pain in his leg made him hiss out loud, his vision clouding temporarily as he bit back the tears he knew were beginning to pool in his eyes.

Wilson studied his friend worriedly. "House you don't look good."

"Thank-you captain obvious," House said darkly.

Wilson shook House's comment off, placing a gentle hand on House's shoulder. He kept it there despite House's attempts to shake it off. Finally, House gave a small growl, but stopped fighting, twirling around to face Wilson. His leg protested almost immediately, forcing him to lean against the wall to stop from falling face first.

"Do you have enough Vicodin? It's been awhile since you've asked me for a script," Wilson noted fishing for his tablet.

"I have Vicodin," House said. "My leg just hurts, ok?"

"No, there's a difference. This time it hurts to the point that you can't even hide it anymore. House, you look like you did that week you were on detox."

"Well, you seemed to enjoy it back then, didn't you?" House snapped limping away.

Wilson stood dumbfounded for a couple of seconds, unsure of what had just happened.

"_What_?" Wilson questioned, his eyebrows coming together in confusion and worry.

He watched House enter Cuddy's office, immediately going for a chair and collapsing into it. House waved away Cuddy's rant, one hand on his temple to stop the impending headache.

Wilson gave a small sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, slowly making his way towards Cuddy's office. The week was one from hell to say the least. The night he stayed at House's was by far the quietest night he'd ever had with his friend. House said good night at nine, with no glass of scotch in his hand, nor in his system, from what Wilson observed. So why was it the next day House was still throwing up and looked even more worse than before?

--

Cuddy sighed dropping the pen on the desk. "I can't keep doing this, Greg."

House nodded, unsure of what to say. He was too tired to argue with Cuddy. He played his role during their argument, perfecting his lines full of dry wit and sarcasm. He had whined when it was called for and lashed out at proper times.

"You can't suspend me. I'm a department head," House said confidently.

"It seems to me that lately your department has been running better without you than with," Cuddy pointed out.

House envisioned the carefully played chess game in his head. It was Cuddy attacking him from either side of the board. Three lousy pawns, and one queen were currently defending House's king. He gave a smirk when he realized he compared Wilson to a queen.

"Are you even paying attention to me right now?" Cuddy snapped, whirling around to face House.

"Yes…" House said, all the while shaking his head no.

"Damn it House," Cuddy swore quietly.

"You swore, I can tell on you."

"House!" Cuddy cried out. "Please! Can you just for once," she said flailing her arms in the air trying to find the right words. "You…you're going home. Monday if you come in looking anything or come to think of it, smelling like you do right now you might as well go right back home. I'm not kidding, House. Two week suspension no pay, and we will see from there."

"But I have…" House started to point out.

"Tenure, I know House. You have Tenure. But at this rate it doesn't really matter anymore," Cuddy resigned.

"Whatever," House said darkly, moving to stand up.

House hissed in pain as a shooting pain traveled back and forth through his damaged leg. Cuddy was by his side in an instance, only to be pushed away by House.

"When was the last time you had Vicodin?"

"When was the last time you had sex?" House countered.

Cuddy rolled her eyes. "Go home, get some rest, take a shower...definitely take a shower, change, relax. I don't know Greg. Do whatever it is you do to come to work looking half way decent."

"Thank you mom," House said rolling his eyes and limping out of the office.

House pushed the door open nearly hitting Wilson in the process. Wilson stepped back in time expecting House to stop and talk.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Next time I'll push harder," House muttered when Wilson glared at him.

Cuddy met Wilson at the door, both staring as the diagnostician limped lamely towards the elevator.

"You should go check on your friend," Cuddy met Wilson's eyes with her own for only a few seconds before she broke eye contact.

Cuddy smoothed out her unwrinkled suit walking towards the clinic, leaving Wilson alone to ponder. To say Wilson was confused was an understatement. Wilson rubbed the back of his neck slowly while making his way towards the elevator. He half-nodded when he heard a nurse call out his name, too engrossed in his thoughts to really talk to anyone.

He had a one o'clock with a patient, but that's all he really knew at the moment. Wilson made his way to his office, plopping down heavily in his chair. His eyes landed on an old picture of House and him. It was taken the New Years before House's infarction.

Despite the fact he had been married three times, no wedding picture had ever gone up. He didn't have any framed memories standing proudly on his desk. Rather, he had hidden them in his drawer, stuffed away and forgotten until House got bored enough to snoop.

Wilson gave a sad smile as he picked up the photograph, brushing the dust away. House had a ridiculous party hat on, his arm around Wilson's shoulder, leaning heavily on the smaller man. Wilson had one of those corny blowouts in his mouth, his arm slung over House's shoulder as well.

Whenever House came in, he had always begged Wilson to get rid of the horrid thing, claiming that it made them both look gay. But Wilson always refused. It was a constant reminder to Wilson about the better times, to help him remember why he was friends with House to begin with…to remind him of who House was.

Wilson set the picture down, an unreadable expression on his face. He shook away any lingering thoughts before taking a moment to collect himself and exiting his office. He walked the couple of hundred feet towards the diagnostic department, sticking his head in to look for House.

He gave a small frown when he found the place empty, a circled diagnosis on the white board. He seriously considered checking the clinic but gave a small scoff in the end. House didn't go to clinic duty, he was dragged to clinic duty, and everyone on the way to the clinic knew he was getting dragged there, thanks to his constant whines.

When Wilson realized House was nowhere to be found, he gave a small smile. He knew exactly where House was. He walked towards a half abandoned stairwell on the old side of the hospital. Wilson retraced the familiar steps, his eyes briefly passing each random graffiti drawing that House had decided to add claiming it livened up the place. He made a mental note to tell Cuddy to repaint over the more graphic ones next time he saw her. Wilson took the steps two at a time in a slight jog figuring he might as well get some exercise while he could.

The wind blew Wilson's kept hair everywhere as Wilson tried in vain to swipe the random wisps out of his eyes. He was blinded a couple of times in attempt to adjust to the natural light, all the while searching for his best friend.

Wilson heard House before he saw him. Wilson rushed towards his friend, his head dipping down to meet House's eyes as he leaned heavily on the wall.

"Hey," Wilson said lamely.

"What you doing up here?" House managed to gasp out through clenched teeth.

"I wanted to see if I could fly, but I found you instead," Wilson said dryly.

Wilson watched House struggle for a couple more minutes, before finally ordering the man to sit down. House glared at him, but made no further protest, worrying Wilson.

"What's up House?" Wilson asked gently sitting besides his friend.

"Everything," House resigned so quietly that Wilson had to lean in closely. House made a face. "I said everything, I didn't want a kiss from you, and you're not my mom…or Cuddy."

"I might as well be your mom, House. You're just one six feet tall child," Wilson declared.

"Right," House scoffed. He attempted to stand, but Wilson grabbed his arm.

"I'm sorry," Wilson said not wanting the conversation to end.

"Of what?"

"Calling you a child."

House nodded. "Yeah…" House said unsurely. "I have…I have to go home and take a shower or something. Cuddy's orders." With that, House grabbed his cane and slowly walked towards the exit, leaving Wilson alone in his thoughts.

* * *

As of right now chapter 4 is 90 done (7-30-2007)  
expected no later than Monday next week 


	4. Chapter 4

James Wilson awkwardly rolled out of bed, his hair sticking up in different directions, evident that he had been tossing and turning. It was nearly three in the morning when he walked the 10 pathetic steps it took to get to the tiny excuse of a refrigerator in the corner. He opened it, desperately hoping that a bottle of beer had somehow materialized since the last time he checked 3 hours ago. Slightly disappointed, but not surprised, he closed the door with a sigh.

What the hell was there to do on Friday nights? Wilson looked around the room getting more frustrated by the second. It was a luxurious room, in a lavish hotel in a nice little college town. It was too damn clean, Wilson concluded. He wasn't use to clean. He was used to stupid little empty pill bottles lying around, an old piece of sheet music on the table and the annoying thud he heard when House's cane hit the floor. There was no slob living in the small room, only Wilson. No kitchen to cook in, nothing that would deem him useful.

Wilson rubbed the back of his neck knowing that any valiant attempt of getting sleep would lead to failure. It was early, but he needed to be someplace comforting, someplace familiar. He thought of House's place momentarily before remembering last time he attempted to get in, the chain had kept him out. There was no sense in confirming House's assumptions that he was miserable at the hotel.

One hour later, Wilson quietly slipped into his office, breathing out a sigh of relief he didn't know he had been holding in. The hospital was quiet, but not the awkward quiet he had felt at the hotel. No, this one was a familiar one, the sound of machines beeping in the distance was the reassurance he needed right now. Some night nurses said hello to him, surprised that he was in so early (or late depending on their view). He had gone onto the oncology floor to get a quick update on each patient before heading up to his own office.

The sun had started to peek through the horizon timidly, its rays gently falling on the single framed picture. Pretty soon people would be coming in, and the day would once again be filled with utter chaos, the kind that happens when House was off work.

He laughed a little, enjoying the fact that the hospital was in chaos with or without House there. The ducklings were like chickens with their heads cut off, bickering through their own differentials without House there to distract them. With House there, the ducklings were miserable, unsure of their diagnosis, following House blindly, leading Cuddy to storm through the hospital in search of House's blood.

It would be a few more hours before it got busy, though, and his couch was beckoning. It wasn't nearly as lumpy as the one at House's apartment, and it wasn't worn in from years of House's and Wilson's abuse, but this one was much more inviting than the one back at the hotel. He just needed a small nap.

An insistent knocking at the door disturbed Wilson from his slumber. Slightly disoriented, he had just sat up as Cuddy finished unlocking the door with her master key.

"Are you ok?" Cuddy asked immediately after taking in Wilson's appearance.

His hair looked like something small had exploded in there making it stick out in different directions. His eyes were droopy, and his tie was hanging over his shoulder, his shirt rumpled.

"Yeah I just fell asleep for awhile," Wilson stated. "I don't have anyone until 12."

Cuddy raised an eyebrow. She raised her wrist to eye level reading the time out loud from her watch. "Well, currently, it is 1:35 p.m."

"What?!" Wilson nearly yelled, jumping from the couch so quickly that he got dizzy. "That's impossible. It was barely 4 when I shut my eyes."

Cuddy looked really worried now, dropping the persona of boss and stepping into the role of friend.

"James, are you feeling ok?" Cuddy asked closing in the distance between the two of them, hesitating momentarily before placing the back of her hand on Wilson's forehead. She let her hand travel to his arm, gently holding him, afraid he was about to fall over.

Wilson stretched, suppressing a yawn. "I'm just tired, Lisa. You know how House has been being more House like lately."

"That's what I was actually coming up here for," Cuddy started.

Whether or not she saw the slight hurt in Wilson's eyes, she didn't mention it. Of course, it made sense. Cuddy always wanted to talk about House.

"Oh," Wilson said hiding his disappointment.

"Are things better since the Tritter fiasco?" Cuddy asked.

Wilson smiled sadly making Cuddy's heart break in two. "House is House. I don't know how else to explain it. I bet you he still has a grudge on his first grade teacher."

"You aren't his teacher," Cuddy said.

Wilson gave a small, sad laugh. "No, it's worse. He trusted me."

Cuddy didn't know what to say. She had nothing she could say to make Wilson feel better. It was painfully obvious that they had both somehow put up a wall to keep the other out. Each friend building intricate cities with all the damn defense mechanisms they both put up. Sometimes Cuddy wondered if the walls they both put up combined were longer than the Great Wall of China.

Cuddy hugged Wilson, unsure of what else to do. She prayed desperately that it would be enough. After all, she had read somewhere that 90 of communication was nonverbal. She felt him relax after a few seconds of complete rigidness, eventually wrapping his arms around her to return the hug.

"You should go home," Cuddy decided stepping back into the role of boss.

Wilson shook his head, his eyes studying his carpeting. "I'd rather stay here."

"You know, you two both give each other a run for the other's money," Cuddy said shaking her head with a smile.

"I'm not nearly as bad as House," Wilson said looking to Cuddy for reassurance.

Cuddy couldn't help but laugh at Wilson's big brown, begging eyes. Both Wilson and House had expressive eyes. Wilson's were deep, caring, his compassion pouring out, his vulnerability all given away just by making eye contact. House's were ice cold, but at the same time, unsure and timid, his cockiness rendered useless as his eyes searched desperately for reassurance, for guidance, for trust.

"No…" Cuddy sighed agreeing with him. "House took off for the weekend. He said you two were going to watch some basketball game? Which was why I thought it was weird when I got a call saying one of your patients was waiting for you for a consult."

"Basketball game?" Wilson questioned. "I offered him tickets to a game, he said he was busy."

"I called him last night to make sure he'd at least taken a shower. Then he said not to bother you or him this weekend because it was quality bonding time," Cuddy repeated with the same sarcasm she was given last night.

"What? That doesn't make sense," Wilson stated confused.

Cuddy's eyes narrowed. "Since when has House ever made sense?"

"Since when has House ever made such a terrible lie?" Wilson didn't miss a beat.

Cuddy sighed in defeat. "Well…you're here. You think he's at home resting?"

"Yeah, and Cameron suddenly grew a heart of stone. Knowing House, he could very well be at some random hospital doing God knows what…_shit_." Wilson paled rather quickly, and Cuddy moved to the side afraid he was two seconds away from barfing.

"What?" Cuddy asked curiously, but Wilson was already halfway towards the elevator.

--

"Well…these are your discharge papers," a nurse said handing over a fluorescent yellow folder to House.

"Because that's not blinding," House muttered, yanking the folder out of the nurse's hand. "Where's my doctor?" House demanded.

"He'll be in shortly," the nurse said as she attempted to check the IV drip.

House shot her a look, pulling the pole back protectively. "I don't think so."

"Dr. House I just need to check…"

"Last time you checked you called me, Arthur," House stated.

"I'm truly sorry for that really, but…"

"If you don't know your patients' names, then I don't trust you to be anywhere near giving me medicine," House said with finality.

The nurse gave an aggravated sigh. It was truly a misunderstanding. She was tired from working a double shift, in which time she had five admissions and four discharges. She wasn't too far away either. House's roommate was Arthur. Not to mention the fact that it was her who did distribute the medication that morning.

"I guess subtlety doesn't work for you," House said when the nurse just stood there, arms across her chest. "That means leave. Go away," House motioned with his hands. "Shoo!"

The nurse gave a forced smile. "Your doctor will be in shortly. After that, I'll have you sign a few more papers and you'll be free to go."

"Joy," House said rolling his eyes. "I was supposed to leave at 10. It is now 3:00. You do the math."

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Dr. House," Deanne, the nurse said apologizing once more.

She turned around to walk away before she said anything that she would later regret. The minute the man was wheeled in, she knew that he was trouble. He threw what could only be described as a tantrum when he was mistakenly called Arthur. When one C.N.A. was taking his vitals, he yanked the stethoscope from the poor girl's ear, claiming she had made a mistake on his systolic pressure.

Deanne slumped over the nurses' station, elbows resting on a counter, as she rubbed her temporal lobes in a vain attempt to get rid of her headache. "Doctor, tell me 412 is leaving," she begged.

Dr. Bilritz gave a sympathetic laugh. Never in his life had he had so many nurses complain about one patient, begging him to restrain House. "Let me just go in there real quick, and you can call transportation now, he'll be out by the time you're done"

"That's not nearly soon enough," a C.N.A. said darkly trying to pick off the remnants of House's lunch from her uniform.

Dr. Bilritz turned to head towards House's room, afraid that he wouldn't be able to contain his laughter. A part of him wondered if he made a mistake placing House on the oncology unit in the adult ward. It never occurred to him until after his beeper starting beeping once every five minutes that maybe House should have been placed in pediatrics.

He knocked on the closed door before poking his head in. Arthur had been moved to a different room after two hours with House. House was supposed to be the one moved, but no nurse was willing to take him as a patient. One even went so far as volunteering to train two new interns rather than take House as a patient.

"How are you all nurses? I told you to go away. Wasn't there something in college that talked about common sense?" House snapped looking up. "Oh! It's you."

"I heard you've made quite an entrance," Bilritz said walking in with a smile.

"I have an even more profound hate of nurses," House stated earning a chuckle from Bilritz.

"Ok, do you want the good news or bad news first, Greg?" Bilritz asked, sitting besides House's bed.

"Bad."

"There's still a bit of the tumor left over," Bilritz started, noticing House's head drop, his eyes sealed shut. "Good news, it got rid of a lot. We could try a different array of drugs, maybe possibly try chemo, just enough to shrink the tumor a little more, and possibly it would be small enough to operate."

"And what happens when that doesn't work?" House asked his lips tight in attempt to will away his frustrated tears.

"We will see…"

"What happens when it spreads?" House questioned, his eyes opening and locking with Bilritz's.

Bilritz stayed quiet for a few seconds being blindsided by House's question. "Don't say that."

"Why? You know it's true. No matter how many stupid, damn drugs you decide to try, no matter how many different damn clinical trials there are, that's what happens. It's what always happens!" House snapped.

"Your cancer hasn't spread, Greg," Bilritz said keeping eye contact with House. "Your cancer hasn't spread," he repeated in an attempt to make House understand.

"Do you want to bet your life it won't?" House asked bitterly.

Bilritz nodded, knowing House knew his prognosis at this time. "It isn't terminal Greg. There's still time."

"I think time ran out around the time you read the tests," House said quietly.

An awkward silence fell upon them as both got lost in their train of thoughts. Bilritz remembered House during the college years. He remembered the girls that would obsess over him. Nearly all his friends had been girls at one point, too caught up in keeping his scholarship to ever really go out and have a good time. He wondered how that twenty-year old kid who would breeze through the class while barely showing up and more often than not have a different girlfriend each time, turn into this forty something year old man living alone, eyes no longer dancing as they were once legend to be. There was no trace of that child in House. And he foolishly wondered if they all knew how he was now would they have still craved for his attention like they had back then.

It was a perfect death for such a pathetic person in House's eye. He'll die young, yet few would mourn. He was one of the higher paid employees at the hospital but he highly doubted any of his other colleagues would come, except maybe to spit on his grave. Another round of chemo, another attempt to shrink the tumor, another fight, he had been exhausted after the first few months, and Bilritz was asking him to do it all once more.

A knock at the door snapped both doctors to reality. There Deanne was, standing with two pens in hand, as well as a clipboard, an x on each line House was to sign on. "I'm sorry Doctor. I was just wondering if you were done."

Bilritz nodded before quickly turning to House. "Any questions?"

"No," House said, glaring at Deanne.

"Well the wheelchair is here, and transportation is ready," Deanne said in an overly joyful voice.

"Finally!" House said scribbling two messy lines on each paper.

Deanne read it and frowned. "This isn't your name."

"Does it really matter? You have my signature, do you want my blood? I can sign with blood, or urine. Whichever you prefer," House said grabbing his cap and hopping onto the wheelchair.

"This is fine," Deanne said quickly. "Thank you Dr. House. I never want to see you ever again, ok?" she was smiling but her tone was cold as ice. She was being serious about never wanting to see him ever again.

"Same goes to you," House said, not trying to hide his hatred with any smile. "Stupid…"

Deanne waved brightly as transportation wheeled him out of the room. House never figured out why in God's name every patient must ride on these stupid, degrading things. It just calls attention to someone who was already carrying a neon folder that said discharge papers. They just needed to make it all the more obvious.

"There's your taxi sir," the shy teenager pointed to the taxi in front of House.

House bit his tongue from saying anything. Sometimes people just made it too damn easy for him. The ride home was quiet for the most part. The guy knew his way towards House's apartment, and therefore, only few directions were needed.

"Do you need help getting in sir?" The cab drive asked hesitantly.

"No. Thanks, Osama," House said tossing two twenties into the cup holder.

"My name's Abhay," the driver said indignantly.

House scoffed grabbing his few belongings from the back. "Like I said, thanks for the ride, Osama."

House barely had a chance to shut the back door shut before "Osama" sped off, muttering a string of curse words in Hindu.

"Just for the record, I understand you," House yelled. "You're a fucking jackass too!" House added though he knew that the taxi driver was long gone.

House was actually lying down on his steps, unsure if he'd make it to his apartment. It disgusted him how much weaker he got because of everything that was going on. He was thankful, though, that he hadn't lost his hair. If he did, Wilson would have surely figured it out at least by the fourth week of chemo if not sooner.

House bit his lip trying to come up with an excuse to tell Wilson on Monday. Something so believably good Wilson would never bring it up with Cuddy. He was still deep in deliberation when he opened the door to his apartment. His eyes glued to the floor as he thought of different valid excuses. "My parents were in town?" "My mom's dog died?" "I got an out of town hooker?" House thought out loud.

"You want to try the truth for once House?" There Wilson stood, his arms crossed against his chest. House nearly jumped out of his skin.

"What the hell are you doing here?" House demanded when he calmed considerably.

"I was coming to check on you," Wilson said, his voice hard. House squinted, looking at Wilson's eyes. When he did, he wished he hadn't. There in his friends' eye was something he hadn't seen in awhile. He's seen Wilson disappointed plenty of times, worried, too many times to count, but this, he hadn't seen this in awhile. Wilson's eyes for only the second time since House and Wilson met were blazing with anger. "Imagine my surprise when I found _THIS _instead," Wilson said.

Wilson picked up a folder and threw it so hard on the dining room table that all of its contents flew out messily. One of the papers fell by House's feet, and he knew before he even read the paper. He knew what it probably said. And when he leaned down to pick it up, he wasn't disappointed.

_Strictly confidential _was watermarked on each and every piece of paper that flew out. His medical records.

* * *

Chapter 5 is 75 done as of 08-04-07  
expected release - no later than Friday of next week (as of 08-04-07)

Thanks for the reviews.


	5. so incredibly sorry an

A/N – To all my faithful readers. I'm so incredibly sorry but I'm afraid this story will be on hold until internet comes back. I have no internet, I have no television. Those two are literally my life. Actually more internet than anything else. I'm tearing up out of extreme frustration because of it all. Comcast messed up their installation and with it they took away everything I hold dear especially my readers. I guess to those who will stop following this story thank you for the support. To those who will continue I am touched. You've all made my senior year summer memorable.

p.s. I will try my best to get chapter 5 up before internet is fully taken away (only computer with internet is my brother's)

Thanks to all,  
Liz


	6. Chapter 6

A/N - I'm back. Thanks to those who waited. It was a shorter time than expected due to lots of whining on my behalf. Anyways I wanted to get something up A.S.A.P. I hope you guys enjoy. Important note. This wasn't edited by any beta and this is two chapters I decided to combine into one because of the wait. I appreciate all those faithful readers out there. ok. I'm done. On with the story.

p.s. -If anyone is willing to edit these two chapters for me for future readers I'd be very thankful because my beta went M.i.A. on me for the time being.

* * *

"You're not angry!" House said as if he was the one controlling Wilson's emotions.

House felt the room spinning, he was thankful for the pillar behind him in which he leaned on heavily in attempt to prevent the bout of nausea that had suddenly hit him. All the while Wilson was pacing the stinking living room with an ease House envied so much.

"You're right," Wilson scoffed. "I'm furious! House how can you hide this from me?" Wilson's eyes were tearing from all the emotions running through him. Actually the two most dominant ones anger and fear.

"You're not angry or furious or whatever god damn adjective you decide to use next!" House shouted back. "You feel guilty because you didn't see it, because you chose to ignore it!"

House pushed off the pillar and made his way towards the couch, leaning forward as to keep most of the support on the lumpy thing. It seemed that Wilson had absolutely no idea how much House was counting on the furniture for support, too engrossed in his own train of thought.

"When do you suppose I'd get the pleasure of knowing? When I get a call from some random doctor telling me that you're some incoherent son of a bitch who isn't in the right train of thought to order them to pull the plugs yourself?" Wilson scoffed out loud. "That would be such a House thing to do too. I can see it now. I'd be with Cuddy worrying about your stupid idiot egocentric…"

"I get it. You read the dictionary!" House said over Wilson's rant. He pushed off the couch and started towards his room.

Wilson saw this and immediately stepped in front of House, his shoulders squared, entire posture tense, as if ready for a fight.

"You don't get to run away from this House," Wilson said sternly.

"Like you did when things got to be too much last Christmas?" House countered his voice low and menacing.

"Yes, that's the exact same scenario right there," Wilson said rolling his eyes.

"Tell me how it's different smart ass," House said pushing past Wilson.

It was more a stumble and trip over Wilson, but if he didn't get to a wall he knew that this argument would be cut terribly short due to the fact he was having one of his own with the floor. House leaned against the wall, allowing his head to fall back against the wall. Wilson was talking again, but House had no idea what about.

"It's different because I was scared that you wouldn't get the hint if I didn't leave you…" Wilson droned on.

"Oh bull shit," House said effectively stopping Wilson. "You left me because you were tired all of my shit and you realized you didn't have to deal with it so you walked out."

"No I was tired of your shit, and I knew I had to deal with it so I dealt with it the best way I knew how," Wilson reasoned.

"By turning me in to Tritter? By handing me on a silver platter? Is that your idea of handling it the best way you knew how? Stevey could do a better job than you."

"Oh don't go high and mighty on me House. Don't pretend your some sort of victim in this entire situation. You were the one lying on the ground that Christmas. You were the one with too much Vicodin in their body. You were the one with the alcohol lying besides you pathetically. That was you!" Wilson accused.

"Then you're the victim then right? Poor Wilson how could he ever handle being House's friend," House exaggerated. "Does being my friend somehow resolve your stupid little martyr complex?"

"Is that what you think this friendship is about? Me trying to resolve some nonexistent martyr complex?" Wilson asked indecorously.

"Why else would you want to be my friend?" House asked, his eyes a stormy blue.

The screaming was getting to House's head. Leaning on the wall was no longer doing any good as the surroundings circled around him. He wasn't sure if Wilson was talking or not due to the pounding headache he had gotten over the duration of the past few minutes.

"House?" Wilson asked, his voice no longer defensive.

He was at House's side in an instant, slinging House's arm over his shoulder, taking them towards House's bed.

"I'm still mad at you," House muttered.

"Jesus Christ House where the hell are you coming from?" Wilson asked gently laying House down.

"Ablation…" House said weakly.

"Go to sleep House. You need it. You should have told me. God, I shouldn't have confronted you like that," Wilson said the guilt starting to eat him up.

"Wilson," House said.

Wilson looked up from where he was taking House's shoes off. "Huh?"

"Shut up."

--

House awoke to the sounds of his growling stomach. The door was shut tight, but the glow of the TV seeped in through the crack at the bottom. He looked to the side to see a Vicodin pill laying on his night stand besides a glass of water. He swallowed the pill gratefully, hesitating for a second before taking a gulp of the water.

House poked his head into the living room to see Wilson staring blankly at the TV. Around him were different books from the library, highlighted and annotated along with a notebook full of writing, and a laptop half shut.

"I don't think you're allowed to do that with library books," House pointed out staring wearily at the highlights.

Upon closer inspection House realized that all the books were medical journals, on cancer. He shook his head, though not surprised. "Especially if that's coming from Cuddy's library."

"Oh well," Wilson said clearing the couch a little. "You want anything?"

"Food would be good," House said walking towards the kitchen.

"Figured you'd be hungry. I cooked some lasagna earlier," Wilson said following House into the kitchen.

"What time is it?" House questioned, noticing that the neighbors' lights were all off.

"It's about 2:30 in the morning."

"I slept that long?" House asked surprised.

Wilson gave a small smile. "Yeah you were pretty out of it. I came to check on you a couple of times."

"You were the one who kept waking me up," House accused with a smile to show he was kidding.

Wilson scoffed. "Please, you were snoring half the time I came to check and drooling the other half."

"Has anyone ever told you that you have no life?" House asked sticking his food in the microwave.

"Ah the kindness, it's overwhelming," Wilson said sarcastically.

"I can be the next Mother Theresa," House continued on.

"Pushing it House," Wilson said handing House a fork.

"Ok, I'll settle with Ghandi," House reasoned.

"Because you're all for non violence right?" Wilson said keeping the banter light.

"Yeah man," House said sarcastically. "Peace on earth all the way bro!" House imitated a California surfer.

Wilson allowed himself to give a hearty laugh at House's impression. He watched House pick at his food a couple of times. House only took a mere three bites before he pushed his plate away. Wilson sighed. When was the last time House ever really ate?

"Not hungry?" Wilson asked going for the plate.

He picked up the fork but had no intention of eating. He just added to the design of the already pushed around food created by House. Wilson just needed something to do, anything to take his mind off the present.

"Are you going to ask me all those stupid questions that I know you have to ask?" House asked getting straight to the point.

"No Wilson, I'm not hungry, but thank you for cooking me something," Wilson said looking up from the food towards the ceiling talking to no one in particular. "Oh I'm glad you liked it House."

"Should I be worried?" House questioned earning an eye roll from Wilson.

"Cancer huh," Wilson started rubbing the back of his neck, unsure of what else to say.

"Yeah that mass in my liver. That's what they say it is," House said with a smirk.

"Shut up," Wilson rolled his eyes, though gave a small smile.

"Crap…the awkward silence is going to start again isn't it?"

"You were the patient that Bilritz was talking about…"

"I'm touched…really I am," House sneered. "Stupid idiot doesn't know what patient confidentiality is."

Wilson laughed out loud. "Oh and you follow everything by the book. Seriously House, have you even attempted to read over any sort of code of ethics?"

"I don't want to be bald," House said, his head dipping down.

Wilson blinked in amazement. Did House just admit to something? "Not everyone goes bald," Wilson said dumbly.

"I'm a doctor too you know," House deadpanned.

"Sorry. I just…"

"You just have no idea what to say so you'll say whatever comes to your mind," House said getting up and putting the plate away.

"Wait," Wilson said jumping up. He wagged a finger in disbelief, his voice a bit high. "You're not actually going to clean that are you?"

"Why Wilson, why would you ever think I'd steal your job?" House admonished.

Wilson did House's dish because he knew that's what he did. He did it because it was something he could do. He knew that the next couple of weeks were going to be hell on their friendship, on House, so he decided to cherish what he had while he could. This…this light atmosphere…this would be gone before he knew it.

-- New Chapter --

"Wilson?" Cuddy poked her head into her head of oncology's office to find his hands covering his face. "I thought I heard something," Cuddy said dumbly.

It was only five thirty in the morning and for the most part there were no signs of life on the office floors, except the tiny light that had peeked through closed doors. Cuddy came in early to make sure the cleaning staff did their job due to the fact benefactors were coming in that morning. She had walked in with only one place in mind. There was one place the cleaning staff wouldn't go to, no matter how much she pleaded. After one mistakenly misplaced a certain tennis ball House came charging into their dingy lounge in the basement to yell at each and every single one of them. He gave all of them a warning to stay away from his office, a warning that could be heard clearly in the clinic, one floor up.

Then again, no one really ever wanted to step foot into that office and lounge. No one wanted to ever face the wrath of House, and Cuddy didn't blame them. House made it clear that no one except a certain handful was to step foot into that office ever again after the gun shot incident. Much to Cuddy's horror he made this announcement four times over the course of one day, practically shouting, ignoring the terrible feedback from the p.a. system.

After that it was only Foreman, Chase, Cameron, Wilson, House and herself walking in and out of the office. Nurses who wanted to talk to House's team would page them; send a message along with Wilson, anything as long as it meant not coming within ten feet of the office.

Cuddy had to come in early to vacuum, because she didn't know when the last time House actually operated a vacuum was. She did the dishes that had been accumulating because Foreman and Chase always turned a blind eye. And finally she had placed a rug over the horrid blood stained carpet in attempt to hide it.

She was actually on her way out when something caught her attention. It sounded almost like a sob, and a hiccupped breath of air being sucked in. It was faint, and if there was any one else on the floor she would have missed it entirely, but there was no one. The floor was void of lights, except for the few emergency ones that were always kept on. It was only on her second look around did she notice a dim light coming from the crack in Wilson's office.

"Cuddy!" Wilson said in surprise.

He straightened up, ripping his hands from his face. He stood nearly knocking his chair straight through the wall.

"Uh…what are you doing here so early?" Wilson asked tripping over his words, unconsciously rubbing his eyes.

"I was cleaning House's office…what are you doing here?" Cuddy asked walking into the room to examine Wilson more closely.

"I got some work to catch up on," both Wilson and Cuddy looked down on his desk to see only one file open.

"Gregory House," Cuddy read out loud. "Wilson is everything ok?"

Wilson laughed, shaking his head, his eyes speaking volumes. Cuddy felt like Wilson was crying in front of her, but there were no tears coming out of his eyes. But his eyes, his eyes expressed so much more emotion than Wilson was capable of verbally.

"No," he said defeated. "Have you ever been so caught up on some little thing that you completely miss something big?"

Cuddy gave a questioning look carefully choosing her words. "We all have James. It's only human."

"I don't know anymore Lisa. I just don't. I'm supposed to be his best friend," Wilson said passionately.

Wilson was pacing now. His hand rubbing his neck so fast that Cuddy was convinced that would chaff later on. She waited for him to continue, but he didn't. All he did was go in circles, almost degrading himself.

"Hey," Cuddy said trying to catch Wilson's attention. "James."

Wilson stopped to look up at her. What he saw was an overwhelming amount of concern. She patted the couch motioning him to sit beside her. Wilson reluctantly sat, his hands immediately covering his face.

"Hey," Cuddy said gently taking his hands into hers. She waited for him to make eye contact, and when he did she felt like someone had just taken the wind from her. His eyes were huge. She could almost see his broken heart in them. "Slow down James. Whatever House did it wasn't your fault."

"It is my fault. I should have known. I'm his best friend. His fucking best friend! I should have known. He was right. What kind of pathetic friend am I?"

"No!" Cuddy shook her head. "You are a good friend James. If I could pick anything to describe you I'd pick above human, above doctor, above head of oncology, I'd pick good friend." Wilson's eyes lit up a little at the compliment, and Cuddy couldn't help but give a small smile as Wilson gave a shy one. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"House should really be the one to tell you," Wilson noted.

"If we're going to wait for that we might as well wait for someone to defy the laws of physics," Cuddy said.

Wilson smirked. "That's House for you."

Cuddy smiled warmly. "So are you going to tell me or am I going to have to wait for Newton to be disproved?"

"Remember the cancer stunt he pulled?" Wilson started, waiting for Cuddy to remember. Once she nodded he continued. "We were talking on Saturday and I don't know it just clicked."

"What?" Cuddy said confused.

"Everything. I mean the progressive weakness, his loss of appetite, sudden lost of what little interest he had in grooming. It was staring us in the face. Even if you guys didn't see it, I should have…especially me."

"Just because you're his best friend doesn't mean…."

"But I'm also an oncologist. The head of the freaking department for crying out loud!"

"House has…" Cuddy started not finding the heart to finish.

"Liver cancer. Apparently he found out a few days before Christmas…during the Tritter fiasco," Wilson finished.

"Oh my…" Cuddy gasped unable to keep the surprise from her voice. "It's almost October."

Wilson nodded. "Yeah, that's what I said."

"How is he?" Cuddy asked.

"He went for ablation therapy on Friday. I was in his house waiting for him Saturday afternoon just to talk to him but I found that instead," Wilson pointed to the file on his desk.

"Can I?" Cuddy asked heading for the file.

Wilson nodded and waited for her to bring it back. She read over it quickly, her eyes tearing up as she got further and further along. 8 centimeter tumor in the liver. Inoperable, clinical trial after clinical trial. The words popped out at her, poking at her eyes until they were overflowing with tears. She took in a deep breath trying to recollect herself.

"I talked to Bilritz over at Advocate…" Wilson couldn't finish his sentence after his voice broke at the mention of Advocate. He coughed to hide the sudden break. "House…"

"Sh, it's ok," Cuddy said hugging Wilson.

They don't know how long they sat there both engrossed in their own thoughts. It must have been awhile because there was a knock on Wilson's door and there was House, looking like he had just rolled out of bed, looked at himself in the mirror, and then decided to roll around in the bed once more.

He looked from Wilson to Cuddy before turning his attention to Wilson. "You told her!"

"Of course I told her. She needed to know." Wilson stated.

"House!" Cameron's voice called from the other side of the hall.

House hurriedly pushed his way in before shutting door yelling, "Threesome, sorry Cam, you had your chance."

Wilson and Cuddy rolled their eyes. Wilson pushed House aside gently before opening door.

"What's up?" Wilson asked, though not making any motion to let her in.

"Tell House that some doctor named Bilritz has called him, emailed him, and paged him five times within the past hour," Cameron said trying to peek over Wilson.

"Yup, thank-you," Wilson said shutting the door before she could say anything else.

Cuddy started to talk but was quickly disrupted by House. "Cameron is still outside."

They stood there in silence until House dropped his finger, immediately going into his own rant. "You told her! How can you tell her. I told you that in secrecy."

"Are you kidding me?" Wilson practically screamed. "Let me get this straight. You know how much people care about you. Your team kept choosing to examine your test results over a dying patient over and over again. They stayed up all night staring at your file…"

"It wasn't my file."

"They were under the pretense that it was yours. House, look around, you're a jackass, an inconsiderate son of a bitch doctor who just happens to have people around him that care. Sometimes I don't even know why. But we're here. And you weren't even going to tell us until you were dead," Wilson said rekindling the fight that wasn't quite finished.

"It was none of your business to begin with," House said.

Wilson threw his hands up in the air in defeat. He let out a laugh that pierced through the room. "Yeah. You're right. It's none of my business. I shouldn't care that my best friend is dying. Really what in the world was I thinking?"

"Enough!" Cuddy said getting in between the two of them. "six year olds," she muttered.

"House you should call Bilritz," Wilson suggested throwing in the towel.

House nodded his head. "Fine but if either of you get mushy on me do not hold me responsible for the actions of my cane."

--

House sat in his own office, his hand on the phone. He made no action to pick it up and dial a number he had memorized over the past couple of weeks. Wilson knew. Cuddy knew. In a span of less than 72 hours two people, probably the two people who cared for him the most knew. It didn't feel as liberating as he imagined it to be. Then again he had gotten bored one day and browsed through a self help book in Bilritz's waiting room. It said something of trust in people is liberating. Some load of horse crap he was shooting.

He knew Cuddy wouldn't tell anyone, but Wilson. Cameron had this way of convincing him, and well Cameron couldn't keep her mouth shut if her life depended on it. House groaned at the thought of Cameron's future smothering. Just thinking about it was suffocating.

The phone rang disturbing House's thoughts. A quick glance at the caller ID told him it was Bilritz. "Pizza Hut, may I take your order?"

"Hardy har har," Bilritz chuckled over the phone. "Hi to you too Greg."

"What's up? I saw you called me a bunch of times."

"I left you a message to call back as soon as possible."

"Well what's the fun in that?" House asked innocently. "If it was important enough you'd keep calling, and judging by the fact I am on the phone with you right now…" House let the sentence trail off.

"I got your test results in," Bilritz started preparing to tread through thin waters.

"I've already memorized this chat. I go, "how bad is it?" and then you go "I think you should come in Greg." And then I go "fine I'll be there soon." And then you hang up, and I do too. Did I get that right?" House assumed.

"Am I safe to assume telling you to bring a friend would be useless?"

"It's not good to assume Dr. Bilritz. If I don't take this person I have a feeling they might break down your door," House smirked hanging up the phone.

House stood and walked the 500 feet towards Wilson's office, barging in ignoring the surprised looks of the couple sitting across the desk from Wilson. Wilson glared at him before muttering a small apology.

"Get up Jimmy. We're going out," House said before looking towards the couple. "Sorry, I need a consult. Life and death you know with all the cancer…" Wilson shoved House out of the office before he could say anything else.

* * *

I have three different documents that could serve as the next chapter. I have to decide which one I like better, but it is 35 complete and release date depends on my beta. Thanks once again. 


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